


Feline Friendship

by iceprinceofbelair



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (mentioned), Gen, Neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 12:05:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6051001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceprinceofbelair/pseuds/iceprinceofbelair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry befriends a strange cat who turns up on Privet Drive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feline Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> I'm procrastinating. I have so much to get through and it's scaring me so here's some more Harry Potter fic.

The cat was watching him. Harry was quite certain. It didn’t look like one of Mrs Figg’s cats. In fact, Harry didn’t think he’d seen this particular cat around before at all. Stray cats were not commonplace in an area like Privet Drive. If Aunt Petunia didn’t scare them off with her broom, the man from the pound would come round in his van and take the animals away. Harry had seen him catch a stray dog once. He’d been quite sad about that.

Harry liked animals much more than he did people. Animals didn’t know that he was a freak and cats especially seemed to like him. Most people didn’t like him because Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon told them all the bad things instead of the good things like they did when they were introducing Dudley. Harry knew he was a problem child who was very bad and who was nothing like their sweet little Duddykins.

Sometimes, he wished he knew how to be good. It wasn’t like he didn’t try.

Harry watched the cat for a long time. It was a very pretty cat, Harry though. Much prettier than some of the cat pictures Mrs Figg had shown him. Those cats had been old and bedraggled and awfully thin (like Harry) but this cat had fur which glistened in the midday sun. It sat proud and tall on the low wall across the street and, if Harry hadn’t known better, he might have sworn it was watching his every move.

The most peculiar thing was that nobody else seemed to have noticed the cat. Aunt Petunia was usually the first to comment on such matters but she had been in and out of the front garden all morning and was yet to say a word.

Intrigued, Harry did something he had never done before. He abandoned his chores and crossed the street almost against his will. The cat shied away as he drew closer, its hackles rising. Unfazed, Harry took a seat on the wall and was pleased when the cat didn’t immediately run away.

“Hello,” he said quietly. “I’m Harry.”

The cat tilted its head to the side as though contemplating this information. Now that he was closer, Harry noticed the strange marking around the cat’s eyes. It appeared as if the cat were wearing spectacles. Smiling at such an idea, Harry imagined the cat growing and transforming into a stern woman whose glasses continually slid down her nose, like his school headmistress. Such a woman would almost certainly be a teacher.

Harry shuffled a little closer.

“You’re a very pretty cat,” he told it. The cat sat up a little straighter, puffing its chest out with pride. “I’d like to have a cat but Aunt Petunia doesn’t like them. She thinks you all have fleas. I think she just doesn’t like animals at all.”

With well-practiced steadiness, Harry slowly stretched out a hand to scratch the cat behind one ear, earning a low purr for his trouble. He smiled. He really, really liked cats. He hoped this one would stick around for a while. It would be nice to have a little company.

~

The next day, the cat was back. Harry flashed it a sad smile from the garden but didn’t dare leave his chores unfinished again. He’d paid for that mistake without dinner or breakfast. He knew he wouldn’t eat again unless all his chores were finished so he’d snuck some bread into his pockets that morning while making breakfast but he only had one slice left after lunch. So, he weeded the garden and watered the plants and cleaned the car and the windows and scraped the crumbs out of the kitchen cupboards. When he was finally finished, he was surprised the note that the cat was still there.

 _She must be hungry_ , Harry thought, well-acquainted with the feeling himself.

The Dursleys were in the living room. They’d never know. Silently, Harry poured some milk into a deep saucer and snuck out of the house, careful not to spill a single drop though the liquid did make several attempts to slosh over the sides.

The cat stood as he approached and gave a soft _meow_ at his arrival. Harry grinned and placed the saucer down on the wall, taking up his seat again. If cats could smile, Harry was sure that’s what she was doing. Purring softly, she lapped up some milk. Harry stroked her gently.

“You’re a very nice cat,” Harry said softly. “Do you belong to anybody?”

The cat gave him a curious look. Harry didn’t know what that meant.

“I don’t think you’re one of Mrs Figg’s, are you?” He asked and he was certain the cat shook her head but perhaps it was just his imagination. “I wonder what your name is. I don’t want to keep calling you cat but I don’t want to give you a name if you’ve already got one.”

Harry sighed sadly. “Uncle Vernon never calls me Harry,” he said. “I wish he would.”

The cat nudged his hand and he scratched her behind the ears, misinterpreting her sadness as a sign that she wanted to be stroked. Despite knowing better, Harry got the feeling this cat could understand him. He wanted to talk to her. He wanted her as a friend.

“Can I give you a name?” Harry asked politely. The cat seemed to hesitate before she purred and Harry decided to take this as a yes. Harry thought carefully. He didn’t want to cat to be offended by his choice and she didn’t look like the sort of cat who would appreciate a name like Fluffy. He stroked her thoughtfully. She did look a little like a cat he’d seen on Dudley’s television once. She’d been rescued from a tree by some firemen.

“What about Minnie?” He asked, calling to mind the name of the rescued cat from the news. The cat went impossibly still at these words and Harry was worried she might run away but after a moment she seemed to settle and climbed into his lap. Harry grinned. “I guess you don’t mind that name, huh?”

Minnie purred.

~

Harry saw Minnie almost every day until he turned eight when the cat stopped appearing completely. He was sad about that and he hoped desperately that she hadn’t been caught by the man from the pound.

When he met Professor McGonagall for the first time as she gathered them outside the Great Hall before the sorting ceremony, he was reminded of his silly notion about cats turning into people. When he watched a somewhat familiar cat leap from the desk and transform into his Transfiguration teacher, he remembered the cat who had been his friend during a time of great loneliness and he hoped again that she was okay.

He never made the connection and, if anyone had known, no doubt they would have added this lack of observation to the long list of reasons why he hadn’t been sorted into Ravenclaw. Still, Harry found himself appreciating McGonagall’s cat form. She brought back happy memories of his eight-year-old self.

And that was good enough.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll leave you to decide why McGonagall stopped showing up though I personally imagine it had something to do with Dumbledore.


End file.
